What's In A Last Name, Anyway?
by Spilledthoughts
Summary: They both thought they were invincible killing machines, immune to making mistakes, all while they were making the biggest mistake of their life. AU.
1. Chapter 1

"Tobirama, you got this?" His brother's voice rang in his left ear accompanied by the usual static from the ear monitor.

Tobirama did not appreciate the interruption, but continued walking silently. By this time, Hashirama's overly concerned self had become tolerable enough for him to keep focus and drown out the unnecessary questions about his safety periodically being blared in his ear.

"Tobirama." This time his brother's voice was stricter than usual indicating that a response could not be avoided.

Sighing Tobirama stopped in his tracks and placed his hand on the monitor pressing the little button that would enable Hashirama to hear him.

"Do you _really _need to do this every fucking time?" Tobirama questioned harshly as he pulled out a cylindrical object from the inner pocket of his coat.

"Yes. You know we don't have room for mistakes." Hashirama replied with the same stern voice as before.

"Humph. I am not capable of mistakes, brother." Tobirama said as he smirked and fastened the object tightly on to a revolver.

"I deactivated all the alarms. You can access the terrace without any problem now." Hashirama explained ignoring the obvious cockiness of his brother.

"Now that's the kind of stuff I need to hear from you." Tobirama said holding the weapon in his hand and running his gloved fingers over the rough surface of the gun admiring -caressing- it knowing that he will soon depart from it.

"So, how are you gonna do it? Make as less of a mess as you can, please." Hashirama pleaded, aware of the unceremonious ways his younger brother has gone about doing his job before.

"Drowning." Tobirama declared placing the revolver back in the harness and buttoning up his coat.

"No…..Tobirama ...no, please no ." Hashirama, unfortunate enough to not be present there with his brother to physically stop him, begged him to reconsider over the monitor. "God, do you not remember the last time…?"

"That was just one time! The sad bastard wouldn't die so I had to. This time it's planned. Besides, I like this gun, I don't wanna lose it." Tobirama announced his ultimate plan and took off the ear monitor which still resounded with Hashirama's voice.

"See you at dinner, brother." Tobirama said before throwing the monitor on the ground and stepping on it, crushing it under the weight of his heel like it was a pest of some sort.

* * *

The butler stood next to him as he picked a glass without looking. He didn't know what it was, he didn't care what it was, it had alcohol in it and that's all that mattered.

He downed the whole glass in one gulp, the flavor of the drink mixed with the mint in his mouth creating an awful taste that made him wince, but didn't keep him from swallowing.

His target had gotten out of his sight which made him walk faster through the crowd of corrupt, pretentious fucks infesting the ball room. Everywhere he turned he saw a face from his Bingo Book. In the near future, he had no doubt one of them will make face to face contact with the barrel of his gun, however, right now his assignment wasn't any one of them.

In his haste to capture the sight of his victim, he forgot to pay attention to his surrounding which caused him to collide with what looked like a flash of red from his peripheral vision.

"Oh I am so sorry, hun." The voice indicated that the flash of red was a woman. He didn't care enough to turn to look at the woman, his focus entirely fixated on finding his target.

"Hey, are you okay?" The woman asked him softly as she placed her warm hand on his shoulder.

The contact seemed to startle him. He turned to look at her to hurriedly mumble a "sorry" and walk away. His instructions were to have minimal contact with the occupants of the building and he tried not to deviate from them.

"Wait...please hold on!" The woman walked after him, her dress rustled against the floor as she tried to keep up with him.

"I am looking for someone. I've asked everyone here and no one knows him ….I was wondering if you'd seen him….He was wearing a black suit and had these_ unusually_ white hair ...Do you know him by any chance?" Her words fell on deaf ears or ears that were concentrated on hearing things other than her voice, yet she followed him adamantly, clearly in desperate need of finding the mystery man.

"Sorry, ma'am ..I...I don't know who you're talking about…" Her question did not really register in his mind and he just replied instinctively.

Faintly hearing the woman's apology for bothering him, he moved forward towards the end of the seemingly endless ballroom.

His nerves ignited ferociously as the man he sought for finally became visible to him. Standing by the elevators, his soon-to-be-victim wore sunglasses tinted with the brightest orange imaginable.

Forget the assignment; he would have killed the man just for his extremely poor choice of color.

He watched from a safe distance as the elevator door slid open to allow his target to walk in.

He walked closer, but still maintained a distance that kept him inconspicuous making sure to not appear suspicious to the ones surrounding him.

The flashing numbers on top of the elevator stopped at five, indicating where his target had gotten off.

It wasn't that he didn't know the exact location of the man; in fact he had an uncomfortable amount of intel on the guy, even than he had to be completely sure. Mistakes in a profession like this meant certain death and he sure as hell did not want to meet his demise through the hands of a man wearing orange sunglasses.

As he raced up the stairs, he felt the smooth metal of his gun against his sweat covered skin. The thrill of killing never ceased to exhilarate him. The way all his senses seem to awaken by the rush.

Fear, excitement, anxiety and a myriad of other intense feelings mixed and mingled with the perfect amount of sensory hyperinnervation provided him with pleasure that almost nothing else could.

No matter how excited he was internally though, his external stayed calm and precise as he pulled his phone out.

His thumb glided against the screen of the phone with habitual precision before he left the stairs to enter the hallway.

He took one step into the hallway and the lights within the exquisite lampshade chandeliers lining the walls flickered off like they had been synchronized to do so.

However, it wasn't just that particular hallway, but the entire building fell victim to the darkness much to his delight. His plan was progressing perfectly, but it was too early for him to rejoice just yet.

He pulled out the magnum resting adoringly against the side of his chest. Loving the cold feeling of the handle, he stopped in front of one of the rooms and with a swift and powerful push broke the door open.

Before any of the occupants of the room had a chance to react, he open fired. From the sound of the impact of the bodies with the floor after the shots, he calculated the number was two, one less than he desired.

The third victim, the one he really wanted, was struggling in the dark to escape through the window. The moonlight from the window hit his sunglasses making him stand out like a candle.

The man after realizing, a little too late, that his attempt to escape was futile turned back with a pistol in his hand pointing towards the intruder.

But before he could shoot, he was quickly disarmed and his arms pulled back painfully with brute force. He tried to pry himself free from the grip of the other man, but miserably failed to overcome the power of the one holding him.

The struggle caused his sunglasses to fall off his face which cracked as they made their with the floor. He tried to tilt his head back to get a look at his assailant, but the back of his skull made a painful union with the hot muzzle of a gun and he froze in place.

"If you're going to impersonate me , at least make it believable. Orange? Really?" The man said as he felt the hostage in his grip become rigid with fear. He pushed the gun against his head harder in an attempt to let the guy know what's coming next.

"Madara…?" His victim said squeamishly and a shiver ran through him.

The man now known as Madara would have loved this to continue, the fear, the intimidation; he took extreme joy in emotionally crippling his victims before the final kill. But, alas just like with his other victims, time wouldn't permit him to revel in such activities.

"This is the last time you're gonna abuse that name, Obito." Madara announced and pressed the trigger. The spark created by the bullet as it left his gun had usually gone unnoticed by him, but in the dark it glowed bright transiently before the bullet made its entry into Obito's head.

He removed his hold on Obito and watched his now lifeless body fall to the ground.

Without giving a second thought to the corpses around him, Madara made his way towards the exit as he securely placed his gun back in the harness against his chest.

Opening the door that he broke just a few minutes ago, Madara left the darkness of the room to enter the similar darkness of the hallway. Things were quieter now and he could hear the rough heels of his boots brush against the carpet beneath them.

For the few minutes that were left, he indulged in the silence as he descended down the stairs to finish his new task.

_'One down, one to go'_

* * *

**A:N: Can't beileve I decided to write a second fic, but I was so inspired by a particular movie that I couldn't resist writing this. If you've seen it, you might be able to guess the name of it since the fic will contains a few elements from it. Well, this is the first chapter :) If you like it let me know...If you hate it ... well, you can still let me know I guess :( **


	2. Chapter 2

_"So, what do you both like about each other?" The counselor asked the two men in front of him with the same modulated voice. It was appalling that he was still maintaining such control on his voice after what he had to deal with. Either he had dealt with much worse in the past, or had an inexhaustible amount of patience._

_The men stayed silent, not surprisingly. The one with long, dark hair pressed his lips together then sighed, his body language clearly stating that he did not want to continue the discussion._

_The other with the white, short hair reached for the water bottle next to him and took a few gulps from it obviously not wanting to speak first._

_"What do you mean…?" The dark haired one decided to break the uncomfortable silence._

_"I mean... what particular thing about ...him...appeals to you." The counselor explained, the same control steady in his voice._

_The man did not speak, instead he took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. Placing his elbow on the chair rest, he first ran his fingers against his forehead before resting his cheek on top of his fisted hand. Annoyance and reluctance radiated from the man like heat._

_"Li.." "Like.."_

_Both of them spoke at once, upping the level of discomfort to a new high._

_"I.." What.."_

_"You go first." "No, you can…" _

_"Just.." "You…"_

_"JUST….go.." Madara exclaimed, the side of his face was no longer propped on his fist. After speaking he clenched his jaw, the muscles attached to which extruded out and moved with a rhythm that could only be caused by an immeasurable amount of irritation._

_Again silence,not the peaceful kind, but the kind one would experience in a solitary confinement made for the criminally insane. Silence layered so thick with tension it hindered breathing._

_"How detailed do you want the answer to be?" Tobirama's voice pierced the heavy silence like a knife._

_It was apparent to the counselor that the two would delay this to no end. Trying to pry something positive out of the men was painfully impossible. Such a pity how human fall just as easily in love as they fall out of it. It was not a new story to him, but momentarily saddened him nevertheless._

_"Like, does it have to be a sentence? or a word...?" Tobirama continued shrugging to give the impression that he truly did not understand how to respond and was in no way trying to avoid the question._

_"Whatever you prefer. It can be either of those." The counselor replied promptly. The reply did not settle well with either one of them and they again became mute._

_Madara retained his posture, his arms tightly crossed. His desire to leave manifested itself into soundless tapping of his right foot._

_Tobirama leaned forward, placing his hands in front of him like he was about to pray-and perhaps he internally did- and partially covered his mouth with them._

_"Nothing?' Is there really nothing..." _

_"No, that''s not ..it "_

_"Yeah ...We just.._.I_ just don't really understand how to ...you know … what do you .. how….how_ specific_ do you want the answer to be?"_

_"It doesn't matter. It completely depends on you how detailed and specific you want your answer to be."_

_"Yeah, I mean ...do you like say ….dead skin cells and keratin ….or do you say hair….how do you_ exactly_ describe it?"_

_Any other person interrogating the couple would have exclaimed 'are you fucking kidding me?' and had thrown in the towel, but that any other person probably did not have years of training. Not to mention he was probably not getting immense amount of money to detangle the unyielding knots relationships coil into._

_"Hair. Yes, that works . Perfect. Is that your answer?" The counselor asked Madara eagerly, a small smile evident on his face from achieving some minute amount of progress with the men. _

_"Sure.." Madara replied and shrugged . His face appeared relaxed briefly before the fear of what's coming next gripped him and he pressed his lips together. _

_The counselor turned towards Tobirama, the same smile still visible, though slowly waning at the thought of the other dozen questions he still had left to ask them_

_"Hair for me too. ...Yep." Tobirama said nodding, his answer lacked any kind of conviction, yet noticing how _extreme_- if you can even use that word- the cephalic areas of both the men were, it wouldn't be surprising that is what they found or at least used to find fascinating about each other._

_"Alright, great. Now, this one is very simple to answer. Give me one thing, just one thing , one feature about each other's hair that you like... it can be anything. Color, texture ….any..thing you can think of."_

_They didn't have to vocalize them, he could hear the suppressed groans of the men loud and clear as he finished asking them the question._

_"Can it just be the fact that he has hair? Like, just the presence of hair….does that count?" Madara questioned and looked at the counselor with anticipation that he would say yes._

_"No. It has to be a feature."_

_Madara received exactly the reply he was dreading. Sighing, he took hold of the glass of water beside him and slowly drank the liquid trying to quench his artificial thirst._

_"The problem with color is that, well, is black even a color? 'Cause technically it's not. It's actually the absence of all color... just a ...vacuum...deprived of everything and anything." Tobirama spoke untremulously, convinced that he made a compelling argument. His tone had a dangerous amount of pretension in it which was bound to cause some friction._

_As expected, his words were not received pleasantly by the counselor or Madara. Though orderly in his appearance as always the counselor did not seem perturbed, but internally he quite brutally facepalmed himself after Tobirama's speech. And Madara, well, Madara was fuming . He knew this was personal attack and he would not stand an insult directed at his proud mane. He had killed people for a lot less._

_Tobirama wasn't just anybody, but oh sometimes words just didn't do it and he wanted to respond with something _physical_._

_"Well, white just reflects all the colors…."_

_"Yeah, that is why it is all the colors." Tobirama rudely interrupted to terminate an argument from Madara's behalf before it had the chance to form._

_"If it is reflecting all the colors, then doesn't that make it nothing, thus, not a color. Black absorbs everything so technically it is the visual representation of all the color mixed together. Whereas, white is just all the colors vomited in your eye all at once." Madara replied in an articulate voice that dripped with acid and contempt._

_"Humph. Try arguing that with a physicist." Tobirama retaliated quickly just as scornfully._

_"Oh, why not _you_? You seem to have such extensive knowledge of colors. Certainly pales in comparison to any physicist. "Madara retorted, the contempt in his voice becoming quickly prominent now. Sarcasm was usually a good indicator that Madara has really gone off the deep end._

_"Gentlemen, please! Both black and white are colors." The counselor exclaimed, his outburst showing just how much the men had chipped away at his patience._

_There were certainly other reasons why he decided to stop the couple from arguing, but the reason that really drove him to increase the volume of his voice- something that he believed to be almost sacrilegious- was that they both stared at him head on while arguing. Not wanting to make eye contact with each other for obvious reasons, the men kept their strenuous gazes permanently on him. _

_Wow and he thought women looked scary when they argued._

_He planned to move on to another question because this one just ended up in a mess. Actually, every question ended up in a mess, but such was true about love. It almost always ends up in a mess; a mess people pay very good money to clean up and fix._

_"They both might be colors, but white's definitely more significant." _

_"Yeah, as significant as the white crayon."_

_"Okay, different question, the answer to which will be identical for both of you."_

_Madara and Tobirama seemed uninterested as ever, but still braced themselves for the question that will most likely sent them into a fit of argument again. They were fooling themselves and they knew it. Their relationship was as good as over, it was collapsing at faster rate than they were able to mend it._

_What was it that made them cling to this sinking ship? They were here to find just that, but before they could they had to dig through this resentment, the origins which they both were unaware of. What exactly happened? And how?_

_Was love even present? Or were they just holding on to a few good memories hoping that with time they might happen again with the same spontaneity they happened with back then?_

_Or maybe it was something less complicated. Maybe they were not ready to admit this was mistake. A failed endeavor to begin with that they were too distracted to realize._

_Maybe they should be the ones asking the questions._

_"How did you two first meet?"_

_His question was first met with silence, then the sound of plastic being crushed mercilessly as Tobirama enveloped his hand tightly around the empty water bottle in his hand._

_Oh, this going to be interesting._

* * *

**A/N: Chapter 2. Thank you AkatsukiFan0161 for reviewing I am happy you liked the fic ^_^ and Thank you to all that faved and followed! I know I have a previous fic I need to work on! It's in progress I promise I haven't lost interest! I just wanted to try something new. Feedback is much appreciated :) **


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